Gemotions

"No, that's not how it happened," Maria repeated, the words bitter on her tongue. Her mother, usually so gentle, had a steely glint in her eyes. The old photographs, scattered across the kitchen table, told a different story.

Her mother had always recounted the hardships, the poverty that had shaped her childhood. The photo showed them, a vibrant, laughing family enjoying a picnic in a park with food that looked rich and plentiful. Maria clenched her fists under the table.

“This is not… it doesn't align with anything you've ever said,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper. She wanted to believe her mother, to trust in the stories she'd been told for decades. But the images, undeniable and clear, were screaming a different truth. A heavy feeling, like a lead weight, settled in her stomach.